Return of the Gun

by R. B. Conroy

  “Good. Keep an eye on things. Watch for new men showing up and so on. He’ll make his move soon. We’ve got to be ready for him.”

  “Sounds like we got a war coming.” Cliff scowled.

  “Think so.”

  “One more thing, Jon,” Ned said. “Just lately some of the men down at my end are complaining that their claims are burning out. They’ve tried several methods, and they’ve dug awful deep, but there’s not much there.”

  Cliff jumped in. “I hear it’s gettin’ slow in the stream, too.”

  “Hmmm…I wonder if Stanton knows that.”

  Both men shook their heads.

  “Well, that’s sure something to ponder,” Jon said quietly. “By the way, boys, while Stanton’s arming up, I may ride out and visit Carlos at my vineyard tomorrow. He probably thinks I died or something.”

  The men nodded.

  “Dinner is served!” Anita announced. “Veal parmesan, scalloped potatoes and corn.” Two young boys set the men’s dinners on the table as the coffee cups were filled. Conversation and chuckles ensued as the men dined quietly.

  - - - - -

  Jon spurred Babe forward to a full gallop as he rode through a clump of juniper trees; his anticipation grew as he neared the vineyard he so longed to see. He passed the small village of Vinegar Bend, comprised of just a few dozen adobe huts and a dusty street. A Mexican woman chased her small child, playfully touching him with a switch, while he giggled in delight. The other women toiled at their daily chores while the men worked in the nearby vineyards. Jon wondered if his winery would look the same as when he left it so long ago. He trusted his manager Carlos, but time can change many things. Brimming with anticipation, he crested the final hill and pulled up for a look. His heart was full as he surveyed the lush green vineyards below. It was spring, and the grapes were just starting to grow. In the corner of the valley he could see Carlos’s white sombrero as he barked orders at the hired hands. Jon rode quickly down the path to the valley, anxious to see his old friend. The vines of the Muscatine grapes looked strong and healthy as Jon rode around the side of the vineyard toward Carlos. Carlos didn’t see Jon approach.

  “Hello, my friend,” Jon shouted.

  Busy talking with the men and adjusting a trellis, Carlos didn’t hear the greeting. One of the other workers heard him and poked Carlos in the side. He pulled up from the vine, and his dark, weathered face broke into a huge smile when he saw his old friend.

  “Hola, Jon! Hola!”

  Jon jumped off Babe. The two men embraced. “So good to see you, my friend,” Jon said as his hands gripped Carlos tightly by the shoulders.

  “I thought you’d never come, Jon. My heart is full! Let’s go to the hut where we can talk!”

  Jon nodded and followed Carlos to a nearby hut that served as a makeshift office and tool shed. The wooden door creaked open; Carlos cleared some junk off a small table in the corner near a window. Dust flew as he smacked the seats on the wooden chairs with his sombrero.

  “Seet down, Jon,” he ordered. “I have a treat for you.” Carlos opened a nearby cupboard, removed a wooden box and gently laid it on the table. He took a key from under the desk and opened the box. Inside were six delicate wine glasses, each sitting in its own compartment lined with red velvet. Carlos carefully removed two of the long-stemmed glasses and set them on the table. The silver etchings on the crystal glasses displayed the picturesque vineyards and rolling hills of the nearby areas.

  “Be right back.” Carlos hurried out the door. A few seconds later, Jon looked through the back window and saw him running toward a small door in the side of a nearby knoll. He emerged a couple of minutes later carrying a dark green bottle with a white label.

  Carlos hurried in and set the bottle on the table; he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. He handed it to Jon. “Please, señor!”

  Jon grabbed the corkscrew from Carlos as he pulled the bottle closer. He turned the bottle so he could read the black print on the beautiful white label: J S Winery—Vinegar Bend, California. He looked affectionately at Carlos as he pushed the screw into the top of the bottle, twisted it several times and carefully popped the cork. Anxious for a taste, he quickly filled both glasses with the ruby liquid. Without saying a word, each man tipped his glass to the other and sipped the wine.

  “It tastes wonderful, my friend. I can see you have given your heart to my vineyard. I bless you for this,” Jon said sincerely.

  “It my pleasure, Jon. Your generosity has given me a good life. I owe you much.”

  “Compadre,” said Jon, raising his glass once more.

  “Compadre.” Carlos’s glass rose high.

  Jon carefully set his glass on the table. “I just came out for the day, Carlos. I have business in El Cabrera I must take care of.”

  “And what business could be more important than your wonderful vineyard, señor?” Carlos asked with a smile.

  “Good question, my friend. On my way here to the vineyard, I unexpectedly reunited with my cousin in El Cabrera. I discovered that he and the other gold miners in the area are being threatened by a local man named George Stanton.”

  “Oh yes, yes, I know of George Stanton. He has sent his men out to the vineyards a couple of times. They ask a lot of questions about the wine business. They say they would like to buy us out.”

  “Hmmm…that’s interesting. George must have his sights on the wine business also.”

  “Yes, his man Buck say that he would make us a good offer for our land. I told him that I was not interested. He told me to think about it, and he would be back. He say the wine business is good because it never run out like gold. He say Mr. Stanton would pay us all very well for our land, and we could all stay and work for them at good pay. He rode off to talk to the other owners.”

  “That snake!” Jon said angrily. “He knows the veins are burning out, but he still needs that gold. He can mine the remaining gold for the next few years and then use it to try and buy the wineries. If the owners refuse, he will force them out or kill them—just like at the goldfields. If he succeeds, he will control the entire valley and have a source of great wealth for as long as he lives—and a base of power to fund his political ambitions.”

  “It don’t look good, Jon.”

  “Tell me, Carlos, do they know who owns J S?”

  “No, amigo. He asked me if I owned it, and I say no, a man out East own it. Then they all laugh real loud and say it must be some rich uh…I think they say…a high pockets, yes that’s it, some rich high pockets must own it. They all think that was funny.”

  “Did any of the others sell out?”

  “No. There are three other vineyards in the valley, and none of them sell out. They all worried, though. Pablo owns the vineyard next to us. He is very old and doesn’t always understand. We are afraid that Stanton might trick him into selling. That would be a shame because he promised to give it to his son Domingo when he dies.”

  “I’m staying at the Callahan Boardinghouse. Please come right away and tell me if Stanton or his men come out here again. And don’t tell them that I own J S under any circumstances. Please be careful, Carlos—these are dangerous men who are after power and wealth, and they will kill to get it.”

  “I know. My friend Manuel owns the other vineyard near here, and he tells me there was a killing in the goldfields. I worry about you also, my friend. Even way out here in California I hear of your courage and bravery—please be careful. You just got back to Vinegar Bend. I don’t want to lose you again.” Carlos looked intently at his employer.

  “Thank you, Carlos. Your concern means much to me, and your friend is right—an old man was gunned down in the goldfields recently. And Stanton has already called me out in an attempt to kill me.”

  “What happened, señor?”

  “It backfired, and I sent two of them to the heavens.” Jon looked over at Carlos. “I appreciate your concern, but I have made a covenant with my cousin to clean out that rat’s nes
t, and I must honor it. Especially after the news you gave me today. It will take some time, and it will be dangerous, but I have no other choice.”

  “You are a man of great honor. I must respect your decision to fight for your cousin and to protect your vineyard. I will say no more.”

  Jon nodded and smiled at his old friend. “This wine is wonderful, Carlos, and my glass is empty. Shall we have another?”

  “Ah-ha! Wonderful, mi amigo, more wine it is.” Carlos quickly filled their glasses. Jon tossed his brown felt hat on the table as his chair fell gently against the wall. He slid two Havanas out of his vest pocket and gave one to Carlos. Carlos quickly struck a match on his boot and lit the cigars; smoke filled the air as the two men settled in for a long evening. Lively conversation soon filled the small hut nestled on the edge of the lush vineyard.

  Chapter 14

  The light from the quarter moon illuminated the well-worn trail as Jon made his way back to El Cabrera. The wonderful hospitality of his old friend Carlos had caused him to stay at the vineyard well into the night. He was feeling no pain, humming one of his favorite tunes, “Old Dan Tucker,” as he rode along the moonlit path. It was near midnight when he arrived in town. The street was empty except for several horses tied to the hitching post in front of the Dead End. Jon spurred Babe forward past the popular haunt. Light from the lanterns inside threw yellow squares across the street. Jon glanced inside; a bargirl gently laid her arm on the shoulder of one of the many gamblers. The diehards were still up testing lady luck. Tempted to stop and play a while, he rode on instead.

  The street turned dark and quiet after Jon passed the saloon and rode toward Callahan’s; he looked into the shadows and noticed Stanton’s fancy buggy sitting in front of the popular boardinghouse. He pulled up to the hitching post, dismounted and tied down. The front door was partially open—someone had entered in a hurry. Jon could hear voices coming from Maggie’s room as he carefully pushed the door open and gently closed it behind him. Trying not to disturb the late night lovers, Jon walked quietly toward the stairs to his room. His pace slowed when he heard Maggie whimpering and sobbing. Concerned, Jon stopped to listen.

  “You damn whore!” Stanton shouted angrily. “You’ve made me look like a fool!”

  Suddenly Jon’s mind cleared. His senses went on full alert.

  “I’ll teach you, you dirty—”

  “No, George, no! Not again! Please!” Maggie’s voice was full of terror. Jon heard what sounded like a buggy whip hitting flesh as Maggie screamed in pain.

  Anger shot through Jon like a bolt of lightning as he leaped over the front desk. He grabbed the door handle. It wouldn’t budge—the door was locked. He leaned back, raised his leg and kicked. The door flew open. Jon burst into the room, fists doubled. He was sickened by what he saw. Maggie’s nightgown was down to her waist, and she was kneeling face down on her bed. Blood oozed from several wounds on her bare back as the muscular Stanton, buggy whip in hand, spun toward Jon.

  “What the hell…” the surprised mogul bellowed.

  Jon rushed over, yanked the buggy whip out of Stanton’ s hand and threw it across the room.

  “How ’bout tryin’ me on for size, George?” Jon’s fist blasted into Stanton’s gut.

  His eyes went wide with shock. “Oh Gawd!” he screamed as he folded over in pain.

  Maggie leaned up and slid her calico nightgown up over her bare breasts. She scooted over on her knees and cowered near the end of the bed as Jon’s brutal beating continued. Jon grabbed Stanton by his ears and slammed his knee into the brute’s forehead, knocking him backward against the wall. George bounced off the wall and began staggering around and looking for a weapon, he saw a cast iron stoker by the fireplace. He stumbled over and jerked it out of the stand. Lifting it above his head, he charged toward Jon. Jon ducked to the side as the heavy stoker slammed into the wood floor and stuck straight up. Jon slammed the dazed man with the back of his hand, knocking him hard to the floor. Jon bent over and lifted him up, he drove his fist into Stanton’s midsection again and again until he fell back to the floor. Jon leaped on top of him. Grabbing him by his collar and the seat of his pants, he dragged him moaning and kicking across the room and out the door. With a mighty effort, Jon lifted the bulky man up and tossed him across the front desk. George crashed headfirst onto the wooden floor in the lobby. “Damn,” he moaned, holding his head.

  Jon jumped over the desk and yanked the whimpering brute to his feet, he looked him straight in the eye as he pulled tight on his collar. “Only a sniffling coward like you would beat a woman, George!” he snarled. Full of rage, he smacked Stanton across the face several times with the back of his hand.

  “Stop! Stop! I’ve had enough!” George pleaded.

  “That’s what Maggie said just before you buggy whipped her!” Jon’s fist once again blasted into Stanton’s gut. He folded over as Jon pulled the front door open and dragged him outside. Jon strained as he lifted the heavy man and tossed him on the leather seat of his buggy. Stanton held his stomach and groaned; his white silk shirt was stained with blood. Jon grabbed the reins of Stanton’s nervous steed and pointed her toward the mansion.

  “You ever get within a hundred feet of Maggie again, I’ll kill ya!” Jon screamed as he yanked his hat off and smacked the hindquarters of the prancing steed. The horse leapt forward toward the edge of town. George bounced on the seat. “You bastard!” he moaned as the buggy rolled away.

  Jon hurried back inside to Maggie’s room; she was sitting on the edge of the bed sobbing. Her face buried in her hands, her back covered with blood.

  “I’ll get the doc.” Jon turned to leave.

  “No! No! Please don’t, Jon!”

  “But you have to—”

  Sobbing louder, Maggie interrupted. “I’m a proud woman, Jon. I don’t want the town to know what that monster did to me. I should have never taken up with a man like him in the first place. I would be humiliated if people found out.”

  “Stanton might let it out.”

  “Do you really think George Stanton wants the town to know that Jon Stoudenmire beat him senseless?”

  Jon hesitated. “We have to do something, Maggie. Your back is a mess.”

  “My housekeeper Katie stays in room 101. She’s a good friend. I can trust her. She was a nurse during the war and has a bag of supplies she uses when we have cuts and bruises around here. She’ll take good care of me—would you get her, please?”

  “Right away.” Jon hurried out the door and through the lobby to room 101. Several doors cracked open as nervous patrons peeked out to see what the commotion was all about.

  Jon paused for a second. “It’s all right, folks. A drunk staggered in, fell and cracked his head on the floor. We’re taking care of it. Everything is okay—just go back to sleep.” There were grumbles as the doors clicked shut one by one. Jon reached Katie’s room and knocked. A short time later, the door creaked open. A sleepy Katie was standing before him holding a small lantern.

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Maggie. She’s been hurt and she needs you,” Jon pleaded.

  “Oh, no! What happened?”

  “She took a beatin’ and she’s cut up pretty bad, but I think she’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll grab my bag and be right down.” Her door clicked shut as Jon hurried back to Maggie’s room.

  “Katie’s on her way,” Jon barked as he hurried into Maggie’s room.

  Maggie managed a weak smile. “I don’t know how to thank you, Jon. The ma....man was terrifying! I’ve never been through anything like that in my life. I thought he was going to kill me.” She covered her face and began to sob uncontrollably.

  Jon rushed over and knelt down beside her, gently stroking her hair. “Just hold on, darlin’. Katie’s on her way.”

  She grabbed his hand firmly; her terrified eyes looked up at him. “Please don’t tell anyone, Jon. Please!”

  “I won’t, Maggie. I won’t tell a soul. And don�
�t worry about George. I told him if he ever comes near you again, I’ll kill him. I don’t think he’ll be back.”

  “Thank you so much, Jon,” she said quietly as Katie hurried into the room with a pan of hot water. Her leather medicine bag hung over her arm.

  “Oh my God, Maggie, you poor thing!” Katie gasped as she set the pan on the night table and snapped open the leather bag. She dipped a clean cloth in the warm water and gently dabbed Maggie’s wounds.

  With things under control, Jon stood and walked slowly toward the door. He heard Maggie admonish her friend.

  “Katie, you must keep this to yourself. No one must know!” Maggie said firmly.

  “All right, Maggie, but what kind of animal would do this?” she replied.

  Jon paused and looked down at the broken lock. Katie glanced over. “Don’t worry. I was born on a farm with three younger sisters and no brothers,” she said. “Soon as I get Maggie bandaged, I’ll fix that lock in a jiffy.”

  Jon smiled at the spirited Katie and left the room.

  Chapter 15

  The grayish light of the moon shone through the black clouds as the bright flames of the campfire lit up the dark night. Huddled near the fire for warmth on the cool spring evening, the rough men boasted of recent conquests.

  “The gringo was stingy at first. He did not want to share his gold, but you convinced him to be very generous. You are a persuasive man, Paco Delgado.” An evil smile broke out on the dark man’s face as he spoke to his leader.

  “Thank you, Arturo. I tried hard to convince him. It was not easy,” Paco replied as he reached inside his poncho.

  “Why does a man need five fingers anyway, mi amigo?” Laughter broke out among the men as Paco pulled a man’s index finger from his bright red poncho and displayed it to the others.

  Suddenly the laughter subsided as one of the banditos raised his hand and reached for his rifle. “Shhh! I hear a horse approaching.”

  “Go see who it is, pronto!” Paco commanded. Several of the banditos grabbed their guns and hurried to the edge of the camp to confront the intruder.